


In the Absence of Knowledge

by johnfdoe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angry Dean Winchester, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Confused Jack Kline, Devastated Castiel lol, Gen, Hurt Jack Kline, Innocent Jack Kline, Jack Kline Whump, No Incest, Pedophilia, Protective Winchesters (Supernatural), Scared Jack Kline, Team Free Will 2.0 (Supernatural), Threat of rape is to a minor, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Whump, Whumptober 2020, Worried Castiel (Supernatural), Worried Sam Winchester, because he’s a good kid learning to be just like his parents, but not the cute kind, fuckin ridiculous that i have to tag that, he starts out trying to be strategic and smart and keep it under control, i know im mean but actually i do like comments, no beta and im too lazy to fix any formatting errors dwi, then it all goes to shit, well it probably inherently makes him more precious but really this is just the sad kind, yes jack is underage you pieces of shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27278722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnfdoe/pseuds/johnfdoe
Summary: Post 15x14. Tags should give you all you need.The sexual assault is honestly probably nothing that hasn’t been on the show before, if in bits and pieces. I'm just bothering to depict the boys getting sexually harassed as scary instead of comedic or unimportant. No actual rape will take place in any chapter.tags subject to change since i dont have ch2 planned yet lmao^well after 15x19 nothing feels like it matters but dammit if I won't finish this fic
Relationships: Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Comments: 36
Kudos: 32





	In the Absence of Knowledge

Jack was in the garage. Was that stupid? Yes. Was he still tired and banged up from Mrs. Butters and her stupid smoothies? Begrudgingly, yes (it was stupid it was taking him so long to get his strength back up but Cas said that was “just how it is.” Stupid!). Were there many dangerous human things in the garage? Yes. Would Dean throttle him for going near Baby without supervision? Absolutely. Hell, would he get in trouble for disappearing without telling anyone where he was? Probably––Definitely. If he got caught he was so grounded. But he wouldn’t get caught, not if he was quick and quiet and didn’t change anything. At least, that’s what Dean told him when they had their lesson on breaking into places. And that was about breaking into precincts or hospitals or houses, where they normally just needed to take pictures of documents or examine a body or check for EMF. Maybe it was different breaking into a room in his own house...monitored by people who broke into places for a living. Plus, he wouldn’t be leaving everything the same. He had to steal something back. Something that his dads didn’t want him touching _at all_ , so they put it in the place he was least allowed to poke around in: Baby’s trunk, which was filled with tons of things that could hurt or curse Jack if he even just looked at them wrong. So really, this was less like breaking into a morgue and more like breaking into Heaven’s Arsenal.

Awesome. He meant that ironically, of course. Claire and Alex had given him the whole rundown on saying positive exclamations as a way to express the opposite. Jack didn’t totally get it yet, but he was pretty sure he just did it right, even if he was only thinking it. So it was decidedly not awesome, but...It _was_ kinda cool. It was like he was running his own little mission, without all the scary stakes and his dads fighting all the time and with him accomplishing what he wanted to all by himself.

So Jack was in the garage. Dean had put the warded cuffs in Baby’s trunk so that they weren’t near Jack, to spare his “emotions” or something. But...what if they were needed? Mrs. Butters wasn’t totally wrong about him. And he was scared that his dads would try to throw them away. What if they needed them for Chuck, or Amara, or what if Lucifer or Michael came back? They couldn’t just throw these away, not when they _also_ had the smoothie spell to weaken angelic creatures enough to make them actually useful! He _had_ to get those cuffs, for safekeeping.

Jack approached the car warily. He hadn’t stolen the keys because he didn’t want to unless it was absolutely necessary. The keys were loud and they were closely guarded, for sentimental and safety reasons alike. If Baby was unlocked, Jack could just grab them now. If she wasn’t, Jack could come back in a week to avoid raising suspicion. Maybe he would get lucky and his dads would take another car on a hunt and leave Jack at home to “rest” some more. Then he would definitely be in the clear!

The trunk popped open. The false bottom followed just as easily. Nevermind, this was going to be easy! Jack looked carefully before even thinking about touching anything. He would do that normally––Sam had practically seared this rule into his mind––but with his powers still muted like they were, he couldn’t sense magic the way he couldn’t sense people or angels. Normally it would all be clear to him, but right now he felt blind and disoriented enough to taste again what it felt like to be human. Some hex bags, guns and rounds of engraved bullets, a few angel blades. Nothing that would hurt him as long as he didn’t touch it. There! In the corner, a glint of weak yellow. Jack carefully fished out the sliver of metal from its hiding place under a bag of ritualistic bones. Nice. It was probably the last place in the trunk where they would be accidentally found if one of them had to rifle through it in an emergency. He looked them over carefully to make sure they were the thing he was looking for. The right shade of ugly yellow, all the regular wardings that a set of angel cuffs normally had, plus all the sigils added extra so they could hold Jack. He had spent hours looking at them when he was locked in the basement. One of them guarded against evil. Another meant “to dim light.” Jack couldn’t read the rest, not by himself, and not without books to help. But he could at least memorize them. This was definitely the right set of handcuffs. He shut the trunk as gently as he could and turned around. Son of a bitch.

They were piled up against the wall. Five of them. They had probably been watching him the entire time. Freakin’– So stupid! He should have noticed them, powers or not! What kind of hunter was he? Damn his parents catching him the garage, Jack was scared. ”Cas!” he shouted.

Their only response was to stalk forwards. Instinctively, Jack thrust out his hand, but his powers spluttered out. Damn those smoothies. Still, his eyes had glowed gold. The people surrounding him hesitated at the revelation that he was supernatural, but then moved with even greater haste. They snatched the cuffs from his hands and forced him to bend over the trunk of the Impala. Jack kept his hands under him and tried to push himself back up, but they pressed weight into his shoulder and back. When they pulled Jack’s wrists from underneath him, he slammed face-first into the metal plating with a groan. As his arms were wrenched behind his back, one of the men touched his bottom and leaned down to speak into his ear.

“You’re awful pretty for a hunter. Are you their new pet angel? Castiel finally bite it?”

Jack squirmed. He was almost more confused than he was scared. The hand on his bottom and the hissing on his ear was very uncomfortable, but he definitely found the first gesture strange. Jack wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen it in his life. Whatever. He’d ask about it later. This guy was “talking shit” about his father, so Jack had to defend him.

“He’s not their pet. Castiel will kill you.”

The man threw his head back in laughter. “So sure about that, are you?”

“Yes,” he snarled. He couldn’t believe this! Honestly, this might have been more embarrassing than it was confusing, and that was really saying something.

“And how’s he gonna do that when he can’t e’en get into the place?”

Oh. So they were making wardings. But that was okay, because Sam and Dean were still here, and they kicked ass.

The man hit his bottom, making Jack flinch as a whine escape him. He and a woman wrenched Jack up by his collar. Jack tried to get a good look the invaders. He was pretty sure the Man had dark hair and the Woman light, but he hadn’t been paying attention when he first saw them standing against the wall. But he thought he had only seen four or five. Cake for Sam and Dean.

The Man wrenched his head back by his hair and the Woman brought a knife to his throat as they marched him forwards. Okay, maybe not so easy.

Another woman, Asian, white tank-top, rushed ahead and shoved the door open.

“–ack?” Sam’s voice sounded. Jack was comforted to know they had heard him. Sam wasn’t too far either, by the way the echo sounded. Maybe the kitchen. Jack opened his mouth to call out, but the knife dug against his throat and stopped him cold.

“Jack!” Dean yelled, his naturally angry-voice bringing Jack some comfort. Sounding angry meant that Dean was worried, which meant that he would tear the intruders apart. _Especially_ when he found out they had warded the bunker against Cas. 

“I’ll check the basement. You check his room again.” Sam sounded worried. It made Jack feel warm.

The Man with dark hair hissed in his ear again. “Are those away from your library?”

“No,” he lied automatically, deflating at the fact that Sam and Dean were about as far away as they could get in this place. The Man holding him didn’t miss it. He yanked on Jack’s hair, causing him to gasp as the knife drew a fine line in his skin.

“I don’t like being disrespected, boy, and lying is disrespectful.” They hefted Jack up and dragged him down the stairs. He was stumbling the whole way, but their grip on his sweatshirt was more than enough to keep him upright. It definitely seemed like they were after something specific, and not necessarily here for his dads. He wanted to yell out; getting Sam and Dean’s attention as soon as possible and _before_ the intruders could do anything else was the best move. But he was a little bit scared. The knife at this throat wasn’t even an angel blade. From what Jack could see at the corner of his sight, it was probably a demon knife. It wouldn’t be able to kill him, even in his partially-depowered state. And yet, the thought of that knife pressing into his skin was enough to make his pulse quicken. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t been hurt by non-angelic weaponry before, even human weaponry.

It was just a matter of waiting. The intruders were sure to spread out in their search, sure to relax around Jack at some point, and then maybe he could take action. Was there anything he could to make them relax quicker? Everyone told him that he usually looked pretty non-threatening. As it was, Jack was wearing a hoodie that had been Dean’s, and then Sam’s when Dean grew out of it, and then when Sam grew out of, it had sat in the Baby’s for four years, Sam and Dean both too sentimental to give it up. When they moved to the bunker, it was hung in Sam’s closet, occasionally taken down when Castiel or Mary or some people called Kevin and Charlie needed to feel warm and cared for. And now it belonged to Jack. The sweatshirt was one of the oldest articles of clothing in the bunker, but it was well cared for. The light grey fabric was thick and only slightly yellowed by time. “Cave of the Winds” was clearly spelled out beneath a picture of a moose and a mountain, the rubbery lines barely cracked. There were no stains, not even any blood stains. Jack guessed that was because the hoodie was _only_ worn when they were sure they were safe––when the wearer was properly bandaged up. It seemed like his dads really wanted to protect this hoodie, one of the last evidences of their childhood, something deeply connected to those they cared about.

Guilt shuddered through Jack as blood seeped into the neckline.

He shook his head. They were practically at the bottom of the stairs now. How could he make them relax quicker? Well, he was swamped in a hoodie too big for him that everyone said made him look like a little kid, his hair was a fluffy mess, and he had already proven himself to be weak and next to powerless. Really, he had already checked every box. _Then come up with another box,_ Dean’s voice echoed in his head, exasperated in a way that Jack knew came from years and years of inventing impossible solutions. Okay, what else could he do to make them think he was too scared to attack? Oh yeah, act scared. But the frozen, shaky, incapable type of scared, not twitchy-trigger-finger, fight-or-flight type of scared. The Man and the Woman pulled him through the kitchen, several other henchmen silently fanning over the floor. Jack ran through his options again. He could wait and just let Sam and Dean handle it. He could yell for them to come get him. He could yell for them to run. He could keep quiet and try to work something out to get the jump on his captors; they were headed to the library, which meant that they weren’t looking for weapons, which meant that Jack wouldn’t be at a further disadvantage. Or he could try to gain some information. More than half of any hunt was research and it always took the longest.

“What do you _want_?” Jack muttered angrily, keeping his voice down. He sniffed as his shoulder wrenched and a sting zapped down his back. He scrunched his noise and breathed through the pain, just like his parents had taught him. “Are you gonna hurt Sam and Dean?”

“Only if they try to stop us,” the Man drawled playfully. His breath was hot on Jack’s ear and he cringed away. But they _were_ going to try to stop them. “Your job now is to be our good little hostage. You’ll do well to keep quiet. And if your sugar daddies find us, you’ll do well to look scared and beg them to do as we say. But right now, you are going to tell me _exactly_ where your puzzle box is.”

That gave Jack pause. Puzzle box?

“...What?”

“You heard me!” he hissed. “We know you have it.”

“I...We have a game cupboard in the kitchen– _Ow_!” The Woman hit the back of his head, sending his chin crashing into his chest. The blade sliced his jaw and Jack knew he was lucky that that had been it. She slammed him into the wall of the library and pulled his head back up by the hair, neck craning as he squinted at the ceiling lights.

“Don’t test us, kid.” She sounded tired and very done. The Man began to turn his face inwards against Jack’s neck. Was he smelling his hair? Or maybe they were vampires. 

“What are you doing?” Jack asked as he shied away. His question went unanswered.

The Woman continued on. “It’s taken us too long to track down this shit hole, even longer to plan a break-in. You interrupted and the polite way to make it up to us is to be fucking obedient.” As she ranted, the Man put his hand on Jack’s stomach and was still breathing against his skin. All of it was very uncomfortable. With the Woman yanking his head back, the Man had no trouble moving towards Jack’s jaw and exposed throat. He sealed his lips against his wounds and sucked. Jack whined immediately. It hurt and it felt uncomfortable and really weird and he didn’t like it. Meanwhile, he was half-processing the Woman’s monologue about the sins of Heaven and “you tell us or else.” It was overwhelming and confusing and Jack still had no idea what they wanted with a puzzle. But he was cognizant enough to realize that he was being threatened, and more importantly, that nobody was holding his arms anymore. He glanced down as far as he could. The Woman had drawn the knife back in her ignorance. If he had a shot, this might be it. Jack dropped his weight in an attempt to duck under his captors, but the Woman still had his hair and at some point the Man had hooked his fingers through a loop on Jack’s jeans. Both his hair and his jeans yanked painfully against the drop and the knife grazed a fine line over his cheek and chin. He squirmed as they pulled him back up. The Man shoved his hand down the back of Jack’s jeans and dug his fingers into his bottom harshly enough to pull another whine from Jack’s throat. He really didn’t like this. Apparently, he didn’t like it enough that his powers decided to give it another go. The air crackled and his skin glowed with heat, but all of it fizzled out in seconds. He wasn’t even sure that his eyes lit up. Where the hell were Sam and Dean? He hoped the other intruders hadn’t hurt them.

The Man licking up his blood chuckled against his neck. “You’re gettin’ a little warm there, angel. You enjoyin’ this?” 

“Get out of my ass! I’m not helping you!” Jack growled. Or tried to. Really, it came out more as a pant. This was weird. Why did he feel out of breath? He’d been scared a lot before but he’d never felt out of breath. 

The Man moved up to his cheek slowly, sucking at patches of skin that Jack didn’t think had blood on them. This was getting really confusing. Was he a vampire that liked skin? Or maybe a human who liked blood...but then why did he also like the skin? “Now, who taught you to talk like that?” The Man asked. Jack blushed, wondering if he had said something wrong. Dean told Castiel to get out of his ass when he forgot about personal space. He didn’t know what it actually meant, though. Come to think of it, he didn’t know what ass was. He knew that kicking ass meant beating someone up and that “kiss my ass” meant “I don’t like you,” or a rude version of “goodbye.” But didn’t kissing ass mean being overly nice to people to get something? Wait, this wasn’t making anymore sense. He’d have to ask Cas about it later. He knew what it was like not to understand things.

“You will help us,” the Woman snarled, back on-target. “Our friends are marching your daddies right here as we speak.” 

The Man followed the line of seeping blood and mouthed at Jack’s chin. The kid twisted his head away as much as he could, but...that wasn’t much. Jack knew he had to be brave. Even if he really didn’t like what he needed to do, he would do it. That’s what his dads did.

“I don’t care if you hurt them. They’re strong. Anything you can do to them they’ve already had a million times worse! I won’t tell you anything.”

The Woman frowned, but then shrugged, her face relaxing. “That’s fine. It doesn’t mean you can’t be helpful. If you would, brother?” She nodded at the Man, who began to touch Jack more enthusiastically. 

He glanced up at her. “Thanks for holding him, sweetheart.” The Man’s tongue lapped at the corner of Jack’s mouth. It seemed kinda like kissing, especially when their lips started to touch, but it wasn’t. It wasn’t like when Sam and Eileen kissed, or even like when people kissed in those videos Dean watched but would immediately pause when he saw Jack. This was way grosser. The hand in his jeans teased the waistline of his boxers, fingers slowly threatening to dip underneath them. Jack shuddered at the notion of being touched without a barrier of fabric. But at least it seemed like the fabric surrounding the Man’s hand was restrictive, so he couldn’t move it around as much or dig in his fingers so bad it hurt. 

It was as if the Man had read his mind. He pulled his hand out and rested it on Jack’s bottom again. The boy startled, stilling quickly at the presence of the knife against the base of his throat. The Man rubbed his bottom and stopped weird-kissing Jack to grin.

“Don’t gemme wrong, Babycakes. I love your tight little jeans, but wouldn’t you say they’re givin’ us a hard time?”

“No!” Jack blurted, scared to lose whatever feeble protection he had. He was more confused than ever. People in the bunker were only naked if they were being bathed and treated for injuries. Being naked meant that someone was helping you, and that didn’t make any sense in this situation. There was no way this Man was helping him. Jack had no idea what taking his clothes would accomplish, but it was definitely nothing good. “No, I wouldn’t say,” Jack added on, trying to throw his words back at him, but the way his voice cracked on his first “No” ruined any strength it may have had. The Man sighed as if he regretted asking and pushed his face back into his neck. Jack knew it wouldn’t help anything, but he still tried to tuck his neck away. As he expected, the Woman lazily yanked his head back up before Jack could even worry about hitting the knife. The Man went back to weird-kissing his by-now wet and hopelessly vulnerable neck. 

“Alright, we’re here, now where the hell is the kid?” Dean! It sounded like it was coming from the lower entrance to the library. Jack perked up and tried to see around the Man. For the hundredth time, he was reminded of the Woman’s grasp on his head as she threw it back against the stone wall. Jack saw stars.

The Man took that time to murmur back to his dads––“Sugar baby’s just fine.”––and immediately turned back to his activities. He rubbed Jack’s bottom against in a different place and Jack couldn’t help but whimper again. Every time he got touched, it felt different. More intense and weird a-and his hoodie was too warm–

In his distress, Jack missed the processing moment for the eldest Winchesters. He missed the way the temperature dropped twenty degrees. He missed the the frozen silence in the room. But he couldn’t miss the fall-out.

“ _Get the hell off of him_ –!”

“– _absolute_ **_bastards_ **!”

The room was thrown into chaos. The Man paused briefly to listen as shots were fired. He grew bored within seconds and went back to Jack, smiling against his skin every time the boy jumped at a discharge. Blows were traded and artifacts were thrown and tables were smashed. But Jack couldn’t see any of it, besides the occasional bit of rubble skimming across the concrete floors. The Man inhaled sharply against Jack’s neck and lifted his head to whisper in Jack’s ear.

“You tell your daddies to stop.”

“Or what?” Jack spat, growing more hostile the more scared he got. The Man shifted and grabbed Jack’s face. He felt his cheeks squish and his lips pucker. For the first time, he could see his captor’s face clearly.

Jack didn’t know what he was expecting, but definitely not a totally normal guy. Dark hair, scruff, green eyes, dark blue plaid. Older than his dads. There was no eye patch or ugly, twisted scar or discolored eyes. Just a guy.

Jack hated him.

“You tell your daddies that unless they stop and listen like good little puppies, I’m going to shove you over and take you.” 

Jack swallowed. He didn’t really mind if he got pushed around––besides the embarrassment he knew it would bring––but he really didn’t want to get kidnapped. Kidnapping were always exhausting and took forever and you never knew what was going to happen to you. He moistened his lips. 

“S-Sam?” he called hesitantly.

“Just hold on, kid, we’re coming!”

Jack frowned. Right. They wouldn’t listen until he told them. “Dean!”

“You alright?” he shouted, sounding stressed. Jack could imagine him pinning one of the intruders to the ground, pushing hard and long to shove a blade into them.

“Dean, you guys need to stop! Sam!” The Man bit into his neck and hit his bottom. It was enough for Jack to squeak––from pain or surprise, he didn’t know––and it was more than enough to get Sam and Dean to freeze, judging by the sudden lack of commotion.

“He says that you guys need to do what he says or he’s gonna–gonna–” Jack paused to remember, but they took the hesitance as defiance. The Woman yanked his hair and the Man threw a fist into his stomach. Jack jumped and was left gasping. “He’s-he’s gon-na–” He fought to recover his breath, especially as the Man’s mouth wandered back to his throat. “You gotta listen or he says he’s gonna shove me over and take me. Please don’t let them take me, guys– I don’t wanna leave, I–” Jack’s voice cracked and he stopped talking. There wasn’t very much he could say to express how much he didn’t want to go with these people, with this Man. The last person he had felt this strongly about 

A beat hung in the air. All of the rage Jack could feel coming off of his dads melted into ice-cold terror.

“Okay,” Dean said. “Okay, we won’t. We’re listening. What do they want?”

“S-Something called a puzzle box.” Now, Jack’s panting seemed to be entirely from getting the wind knocked out of him. Whatever intense heat had been bothering before had dissipated the moment the fighting started. He was grateful. “But not like that one we did with Aunt Rowena last year, with the castle she kept complaining about–” Jack cried out as the Man squeezed his upper arm painfully and bit him again.

“Hey asshat, let the kid talk!” Dean growled. Jack stilled, scared that Dean yelling would make the Man do something, but it didn’t.

“They said puzzle box but I don’t know what that is!” Jack knew he was close to tears. His jaw was tense and his lips shook even when he pressed them tightly together and his eyes burned.

Sam hushed him. “It’s okay, Jack, don’t worry. We got this. Is it the Enochian Puzzle Box? Is that what you want?”

The Man stopped immediately and stood up straight. He grabbed Jack’s face again and turned it towards him. With little warning, the Man pushed forwards and connected their lips. Jack jolted. The guy was _sucking_. What the hell was happening anymore? This made literally zero sense. Head pinned as it was by the Woman, Jack endured until the Man pulled away. Sam and Dean’s angry shouts had barely been audible over his own miserable whining. The Man gave the Woman a meaningful look. That was all that was needed for her to pull him harshly, nearly sending him to the floor, and to spirit him away back to the garage. Jack wanted to fight, but he was shaky and felt weird and he was tired from losing a little bit of blood and he didn’t want to screw anything up because he knew Sam and Dean would fix this by themselves. Fix Jack’s dumb mistake.

The Woman shoved him to his knees next to a shelf made of heavy metal pillars and planted a boot between his shoulder blades abruptly. Something in his side cracked just as Jack’s head snapped forward and his mouth made harsh contact with the edge of one of the shelves. His lip began to bleed, but Jack was just glad it wasn’t his nose again. Those always hurt way worse. In his pained daze, Jack hadn’t payed much attention to the Woman, but when he looked up, it appeared that she had swept every item in a five foot radius of his body far away. He hoped nothing was broken, otherwise they might be in more trouble. They didn’t really keep supernatural things out in the open in the garage, except for hidden weapons, but there was stuff like gasoline and chemicals––normal people stuff.

The Woman stepped behind him, leant down, grabbed his ankles, and pulled _hard_. The effect was instantaneous. Jack’s knees slid out from under him. His arms were forced in front of him. His elbows and chin smacked against the ground. Blood filled his mouth and was quickly followed by a sizzling pain, first in his tongue, but then radiating up the insides of his cheeks. Jack had d heard his dads and friends bitch about biting their tongues before, but had never actually done so himself. He suddenly felt bad for laughing every time. This wasn’t funny at all. A few kicks and a few more creaks in his ribs was all it took to convey to Jack that he was supposed to turn over.

Again despondent, Jack lay down and watched dazedly as the Woman pulled his bound arms through the narrow space in the side of the shelf and redid his handcuffs around one of the opposite beams. His head was practically resting on the ground-level shelf. He could kick his legs around, but he could barely moved anything above his waist more than an inch in every direction. He couldn’t even really move his head, with the way his arms were wrenched above him. Jack might as well have been pinned.

The Woman smirked down at him, giving him his first and maybe last good look at her. She wore dark eye make-up and her hair was bleached. _I fucking knew it_. The smirk dropped from her lips and she stepped away, garage door slamming behind her. Jack let his head drop back as gently as he could. For now, he could do nothing but rest.


End file.
